


The Line of Durin---Ended

by NoxCaligo



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of Five Armies, BoFA, Canonical Character Death, Fili and Kili being bros, Gen, I hope that rating is ok, M/M, NOT Durincest, Sort of Bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxCaligo/pseuds/NoxCaligo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken." But all good things must come to an end. BOFA fic. Canonical Character Death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Line of Durin---Ended

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the devil. I'm sorry. This is a Canon-BOFA fic. Yknow what the means. This is NOT a Durincest fic. So if that's what you're looking for....sorry. It does get Bagginshield/Thilbo-y at the end. But it's REALLY short lived. Cuz...well, you know. This was pretty much me handling being sad recently.

_He learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken._

Kili had been so focused on reloading his bow he hadn’t heard the whistle of an arrow as it flew, lodging itself in his shoulder. As the pain rippled through him he realized he had been struck and let out a pained yell. With gritted teeth he reloaded his bow and aimed at the nearest orc before letting it fly. No sooner had the arrow hit its mark did another cut through the archer’s leathery armor at his shoulder. Again he cried out but he did not fall.

Rain made his bangs cling to his face so he couldn’t clearly see where the other archer was shooting from. His feet sloshed around in the mud of the battlefield making it hard to move. The death screams, grunts of pain and shouts of determination filled the air along with the sound of pouring rain making it even harder to focus. He hadn’t known war before this. He had been young when his uncle had fought in front of the Mines of Moria but he had heard the stories. Had it been just as tough as this fight? Or was this one fiercer because the dwarves had more to lose? His muscles ached and he wanted mead to quench his thirst.

Was it his imagination or was his vision swimming?

He shook his head. _I’ve got to stay focused._

                “Fili!” he shouted into the fray. Around him were men, elves and orcs, none of which responded to his call, each too involved with killing the enemy before them. Hammers, knives, swords and maces clashed with the sound of metal scraping echoing through the mountains and hills. Somewhere in his mass of warring bodies was his brother.

An orc before him felled a man, slashing at his neck through his steel plate armor. No sooner had the body slid the ground with blood spurting from the wound was the orc closing in on Kili. He raised his bow and launched an arrow, lodging it in the orc’s torso, but onward it pressed, hell bent on taking down the youngest Durin. It raised its hammer above his head and brought it down---a moment too late. Kili was able to roll out of the way before awkwardly raising his bow to string another arrow and let it loose into the creature’s yellowing eyes. The orc screamed and dropped his hammer, dying with the arrow still lodged in his eye.

                “Fili!” he called out again. His voice sounded desperate even to his own ears. If Fili was to die…

The quiver on his back was starting to feel light. He reach back quickly to count one, two, three- three arrows left. _Not good._ He chastised himself for not grabbing more before he left Erebor’s gates. But he hadn’t realized how big the orc army would be or how long this battle was to drag on; they had already been fighting for at least two hours and neither army had thinned enough for a victory.

He pulled the arrows from the orc he had just killed and from the one he had killed before that. Now he had six. That wouldn’t be enough if-

Pain shot through his shoulders. He gritted his teeth. If he were to pull the arrows out now all it would do is allow for bleeding out. No, he would have to leave them in.

                “Kili!”

He heard the cry over the raging war and his head swept around looking for the source of the noise. Cutting through the orcs, bloody sword in hand was his blonde haired brother Fili. His blonde hair was coated with blood and dirt and even from a distance he could tell he had a gash on his forehead.

                “I’m here!” he called out.

Fili finally spotted him and after finishing off a bat which had crashed to the ground before him began making his way to his brother.

But Fili was not the only one who had learned of the youngest Durin’s location.

A tumble of guttural words came from behind Kili and before he had time to react he was being tossed several feet. He collided with the muddy ground hard, leaving him breathless.

                “I was looking for your uncle…but you will do for now…small one.”

Towering above Kili was the Azog the Pale Orc. His white, scarred skin was splattered with blood, none of it his own. His blue eyes bore in Kili’s, delighting in the fear he found there. Kili scrambled backwards pulling for his bow as he did so. He had barely notched his arrow when the Pale Orc was upon him again, this time grabbing him with the metal claw that had been implanted after Thorin had robbed him of his hand and forearm. The points of the metal claw dug into Kili’s bicep, hauling him up to his feet before flinging him again. He was able to keep his grasp on his bow, but his arrow had been lost.

                “Kili!” he heard his brother yell as he raced towards them.

_No. Stay away. He’ll kill us both!_

                “Well, well. So the small lion has appeared,” the Pale Orc mused, turning to meet Fili’s charge. “So quick to die!”

With Fili on the offensive the Pale Orc turned his attention away from Kili. The young Durin tried to get up, to get another arrow ready, to plunge it into that orc’s back, but again he found his sight growing fuzzy. All the sounds were so far away while the sound of his heart beat was pounding like drum chorus in his ears. He noticed the arrow wounds were seeping with blood despite the arrows still being lodged in him.

The loud clattering of metal meeting metal broke through to him, drawing him back to the battle at hand. Fili had been dis-armed and was stumbling back while he reached for his other blade. Without hesitation Kili loaded the arrow and sailed it right into the Defiler’s back. The Pale Orc hissed with pain and turned his attention once again to Kili. This gave Fili enough time to reclaim his sword and charge him. He was able to get close but the orc turned at the last minute, whacking him away with his flesh arm.

                “Why won’t you Durin just _die?”_ he growled.

He closed in on Kili much to Fili’s horror.

                “I will _not_ make the same mistake I did last time,” Azog growled.

 _The mistake from Moria._ Fili thought frantically. _He won’t toy with us like he did Thorin…_

Azog grabbed Kili’s long hair, making him yelp at the pain. He held him in up so he was level with his chest and his legs were trying to find the ground before thrusting his metal claw through his chest. Kili would have cried out had all the air not left him. The claw was pulled out quickly leaving a hole in its wake. He could vaguely hear Fili screaming his name as he hit the ground but he couldn’t be sure; all he could be sure of was that he was going bleed out. And die. The coppery taste of blood was already filling his mouth causing him to cough. Azog kicked him hard in the wound he created and Kili let out a shriek that would have embarrassed him if it hadn’t hurt so much. His world was spinning and he could feel the bile at the back of his throat.

With Kili incapacitated Azog turned his attention on Fili who was within range now. He lashed out with his claw. Fili parried and dove to the side. The giant swung his mighty mace that was in his other hand in a mighty circle forcing Fili to roll in the mud to get away. To Azog it seemed like a repeat of that day so long ago when he had Thorin, son of Thrain on his back outside the gates of Moria. Rage filled his heart. If he been quicker…if he hadn’t _toyed_ with that damnable dwarf he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Fili just managed to get to his feet when the mace collided with his ribs. The air was forced from him as he crashed to the ground beside his brother.

                “Fili…”

Fili could only grunt in pain. When he tried to get up a large boot planted itself on his back, pushing him further into the mud.

 _It’s over_ , Kili thought in despair. _We’re going to die here._

Kili glanced over at his brother who despite the boot was still trying to get a handle on the soggy ground so he could get up. Azog continued to laugh and ground out cruel sounding orc words as he pushed Fili down again and again. After several attempts however all the humor fell from the orc’s face.

                “Time to die,” he growled out in the common tongue.

Kili felt helpless. There they were about to be slain by an enemy to the Durin line and he couldn’t even find the strength to move. He felt the weight of the stone he carried always in his pocket. _“Come back safe”_ his mother had told him as she had pressed the smooth stone into it the day he left on The Journey with his uncle. He had uttered back an affirmative to her. And here he was beside his brother about to die at the hands of and orc.

He kicked Fili in the ribs again, this time forcing him onto his back. Fili squinted up at him through the veil of rain. Just as the Pale Orc was raising the mace to bring it down on Fili’s head, the blonde dwarf flung two handfuls of mud into his white, scarred face. Azog gave a surprised jerk backwards, and while he desperately tried to scrub the mud and dirt from his eyes, Fili pulled two knives from his pant legs. With gritted teeth he pushed himself up and dove for the Pale Orc, determine to destroy the threat to his brother.

Fili practically had to launch himself up to stab both knives into Azog’s neck, and once each was buried inside he pulled them down with as much force as he could. Blood flowed like a torrent from the neck, a red river that trailed down his sickly white skin. Kili watched as the orc made grabs at his neck, his voice bubbling in his open throat. He lashed out blindly for Fili who has fallen down to the ground. With no success he stumbled back. Azog made a finally garbled noise that Kili guessed was some sort of curse before falling back first to the ground.

                “Is he…?” Kili could barely get out the words.

Fili had crawled by his side, his own wounds bleed profusely. He propped himself up the best he could to look into Kili’s eyes which were so unfocused and far away he knew there was no hope. He slid down beside his dying brother. He felt the blood dribbling past his own lips and knew he wasn’t too much better off.

                “He’s dead.”

_But…so are we._

Fili couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears, but he could fathom a guess. His hand was shaking as he took his younger brother’s hand in his and gave it a light squeeze.

Kili sighed. “At least…”

 _Uncle will be safe._ It was unspoken but Fili knew what he meant. Kili reached down to the hole in his chest and touched it hesitantly before bringing the hand up to his face. Blood dripped from his fingers staining the leather fingerless gloves that he had worn throughout the journey. His other hand which still held Fili’s squeezed back ever so lightly.

                “I’m not afraid,” he murmured. “We’ll finally be with…dad again.”

The words brought tears streaming down both their faces.

                “Yeah. We’ll see dad,” Fili agreed.

                “And Uncle Frerin.”

                “Kili?”

There was the sound of Kili struggling to breathe. But his fingers twitched---a silent _yes?_

                “I’ll…see you soon…Goodnight…”

                “Good-“

But the reply was cut off abruptly. The fingers in Fili’s hand loosened and Fili gave a muffled sob.

_His brother was dead._

Fili could hear his mother’s voice ringing out in his head. She had been hesitant to send her sons, heirs to the throne of Erebor, go on a suicide mission with their uncle—hell, she hadn’t been happy her brother was going. It had been a long battle to convince her to let go. She wasn’t happy.

                “ _Promise me you’ll protect him,_ ” she had said to Fili one evening right before the left the Blue Mountains. “ _Protect your brother. He’s often too soft and nice for the world._ ”

Of course Fili had promised up, down and sideways that he and Kili would return to her alive. Guilt flooding him for a second as he thought of what his mother was going to have to go through. She would have to march all the way to Erebor, only to find her two sons already in their stone coffins.

But there was nothing he could do. He gave Kili’s still hand a light squeeze as his eyes began to slide shut. At least he wouldn’t let him go alone.

He tilted his head to look at Kili and as he did so he lost consciousness forever.

* * *

 

 

                “Where are they?”

Thorin was laid out on a make shift bed under the shelter of a tent not too far from the battlefield. His condition was rapidly deteriorating; he had nicks all over his face which bled, his torso had been sliced open down to the bone across his rib cage and his legs lay broken under the sheets. With ringed fingers he gripped the sheets. Not even the strongest pain killers that Oin had could remove what he felt. Physical pain came in unrelenting waves but it was the constant drone of regret which was causing the discomfort.

The gold-sickness had driven him to insanity. He had desired his mountains and horde of gold than the companionship of his friends and his heirs. And Bilbo…

                “Thorin?”

It was the meek voice from the entryway to the tent which drew his attention. He had never dreamt that he would hear that voice again. _He must be halfway to the Shire by now_ he had reasoned. But closing the flap of the tent and advancing towards him was none other than the Burglar he had banished for trying to save him.

                “Bilbo…”

The hobbit was covered in mud and grime but thankfully he was unharmed. His hazel eyes swept up and down Thorin and the frown on his face deepened.

                “I’m dying my friend.”

Bilbo flinched as if Thorin had slapped him. ”You’ll…you’ll heal-“

                “No. I won’t,” Thorin stated sadly. “Even Oin has said as much.”

                “But-“

Thorin motioned Bilbo closer. Hesitantly Bilbo stepped closer until he was at the end of the bed.

                “How are Kili and Fili…?”

                “They’re…recovering,” Bilbo lied. It wouldn’t do Thorin good to know…

                “That’s good. Bilbo, I want to leave on good terms with you,” Thorin said quietly. “My actions while you were in Erebor were…horrid to say the least. I treated you like an enemy, not a friend who was trying to save me from myself. And for that I am sorry. I would beg on my knees for you to forgive me if I could even feel them.”

Bilbo gulped back the lump in his throat. Thorin watched as tears swelled in his eyes but refused to fall. “Oh you stupid dwarf. There is no need to beg. You are king and kings don’t beg. I forgive you.”

The dwarf hadn’t realized that he had been holding his breath until he released it painfully. “Thank you. You…mean the world to me Bilbo Baggins.”

                “Thank you…” Bilbo whispered, a blush appearing on his smooth hairless cheeks. “Thank you for calling to me…”

                “I could not pass without mending—“

Pain suddenly gripped his chest. His fingers curled into the sheet and his teeth sank down onto his lower lip. He tried not to let it show on his face but with how Bilbo surged forward he was sure he failed.

                “Thorin!”

Thorin’s eyes found Bilbo’s once again. “I have no long for this world Master Baggins.”

Bilbo reached forward hesitantly and held onto Thorin’s hand. His thumbs ran over the rings there and his eyes followed.

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world,” Thorin murmured gently. “If only I had figured that out sooner. Then maybe I could have told you sooner.”

“Told me what?” Bilbo wasn’t sure if Thorin was losing his grip on reality or if he had missed something entirely.

The dwarf king took his other hand and slowly placed it over Bilbo’s smaller one. They were both cold and clammy but Bilbo was willing to overlook it for the moment.

                “I’ve held feelings for you, Bilbo. For a while. Perhaps since Mirk—“

Another flood of pain seized him rendering him momentarily speechless.

                “Mirkwood…” he finished. “I had wanted to tell you. If we had survived Smaug’s wrath I promised myself I would tell you how I felt. But…instead I shunned you. I hurt you.”

Bilbo sat in stunned silence. And in that silence death crept up slowly on Thorin.

                “But it seems I was too late to tell you,” Thorin lamented. “If only I hadn’t succumbed to the disease of my family…perhaps we could have—“

Bilbo squeezed the hands gently. “Thorin…”

                “But I’m foolish. I have no right to ask for your love after all I’ve done, and now that I’m leaving you. But I love you. I love you Bilbo Baggins. I would have nobody else but you in this lifetime.”

                “Thorin please--!”

                “I will see you in the next life my hobbit. Farewell—“

And just like that, the strongest person Bilbo had ever known slipped from their world. He look peaceful for the first time since The Journey began, and Bilbo couldn’t help but feel sad for Thorin that death was the only way he could truly be at peace.

Gandalf who had been standing outside the tent came in at the first sound wail. He found Bilbo with his forehead pressed to Thorin’s. The tears which he had been holding back for Thorin’s sake spilled freely and thick down onto Thorin’s face and beard. The hobbit clenched the fabric of Thorin’s bloodied clothes as his shoulder heaved with sobs.

                “Bilbo…”

                “He loved me! He loved me! After all this time I could have told him I love him too—“

The wise wizard would be lying if he didn’t admit to having had a hunch that Bilbo and Thorin shared feelings for one another, but it had not been his place to meddle any more than he already had in their lives. He felt a bit of guilt as he stood at the base of the bed watching his longtime friend sob like a soul broken.

                “But he was wrong!” Bilbo wailed.

                “How was he wrong…?” Gandalf asked gently.

Bilbo released his grasp on Thorin slowly and tried to scrub the tears unsuccessfully from his eyes, only adding blood from Thorin’s shirt to his face. “He said we would meet again in the afterlife,” Bilbo whispered as the tears poured once more. “But we won’t. We can’t Gandalf. I won’t go to the halls of his ancestors--!”

Gandalf pulled his friend into his chest and held him tight. Bilbo didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Gandalf and sob into his gray robes.

He knew as he clung to that ancient wizard that like Thorin he would not have anyone else in this life time. He would get gray and old by himself. There would be no happy family in Bag End, nor one in the hall of Erebor. He condemned himself to being the quirky and strange bachelor of Hobbiton, but for Thorin, who could have been his lover, he would wait another lifetime to find him.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
